


30. Settling In

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [30]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	30. Settling In

_**Sam and Ryan[](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/profile)**_[ **kwanten**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/): settling in  
 **players only. takes place later the same day as[this](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/7175.html).**

Music fills the downstairs - Ryan got his stereo and speakers set up today - the pounding beat of Audioslave swelling and spilling over out the open windows. Ryan sings along under his breath as he chops crab meat for cioppino, but he's thinking of shutting the music off. He can't tell whether Sam likes it or not. Truth is, he can't tell much about Sam today; his lover has been unnaturally quiet all day, and it doesn't take long for doubt to begin creeping in.

Sam chops tomatoes, slices baguettes in half and puts them on a baking sheet to be toasted, and preheats the oven. He sets the table inside, setting out candles, the weather a little too windy tonight for dinner on the deck. All without a word, which he doesn't even realize. He's lost in thought, his tasks done by rote, still confused over this morning, shell-shocked by the enormity of _everything_.

Eyeing Sam over his shoulder, Ryan shakes his head. He scoops the last of the crab into the pot on the stove and adjusts the flame, then points the remote control and shuts the stereo off. It's definitely time for an experiment. "You okay, babe?" he asks quietly, his eyes on his work.

"What?" The question sinking in a second later. "Yeah, I'm fine," Sam says. "What do you want to drink?"

"Water's okay." Ryan washes his hands at the sink and sneaks a look at Sam, debating. Does he really want to push his lover? No; he's worried what the effects might be. On the other hand, the uncertainty is driving him crazy. He needs to know if Sam's having regrets already. So he can get the hell out before it gets even worse. "You're awfully quiet today."

"Yeah. Sorry," Sam says, standing there, feeling rather foolish. Unused to all of this, but especially to needing to be accountable. "I just - got a lot on my mind and sometimes I just need to think things through."

Ryan blows out a breath and gathers his courage. "Do you... I mean, do you want some time to yourself? I can go... somewhere." He frowns. Where else is he going to go but Citadel? A place where every little thing will remind him of Sam. Oh hell, everything reminds him of Sam these days anyway. He's damn near obsessed.

"God no," Sam says, immediately horrified by the suggestion. And even more fucking confused. "Why would you even suggest that? Is my being quiet really that bad?"

"I'm just trying to give you your space," Ryan answers. "You know, room to--" _change your mind_. He swallows the words, terrified that speaking them aloud might give them more power. "--To breathe. I mean, I know you're not used to..." he gestures at himself, the house, "and I'm not, either. But, I mean. You know. If you..." He's not even making sense anymore, nerves taking over.

"I don't," Sam says bluntly, worried that he's already managed to fuck things up. "I don't need you to give me space. I don't want you to leave." He exhales softly, moving closer, taking Ryan's hand in his. "I'm not regretting anything. Not us, not this. It just - it's a lot and it's all happened so fast."

"It did, yeah. Really fast." It's hard to believe it hasn't even been two months; so much has taken place. "But it's good," Ryan whispers, slipping his free hand into Sam's hair. "I know that there's still adjusting to do," he says softly, gently rubbing Sam's nape. "I just don't want you to feel trapped. I guess that's kind of my greatest fear, right now."

"Well, I do sometimes, but I mean I trapped myself," Sam says with a small smile. "It's like, I don't know, being afraid of heights but determined to skydive and when you get up there and you're looking out, you freak, but once you jump, it's good and you're proud of yourself, but it doesn't really make it any easier the next time. You still have to talk yourself through it, remind yourself why you're doing it." He laughs, shaking his head. "Does that make any sense?"

Ryan stares at Sam for a long moment, processing. "Yeah," he says eventually, "it makes sense." He doesn't like it one bit, though, but he figures that's just friggin' tough. "You know, I always tell myself I'm going to make it easy on you," he confides, trailing his fingers down over Sam's shoulder. "But then I never do."

"Why do you say that?" Sam asks, frowning a little.

"Because I always swear to myself that I'm not going to pressure you by telling you I love you or touching you too much or... whatever," Ryan says, trying to explain the internal struggle that he's been dealing with for the past month. "But then I always do it anyway, no matter what I tell myself."

Sam frowns a little more. He's not sure what he said to make Ryan think that he doesn't want him touching him or... Shit. "I was talking about the house," he says, chewing at his lip. "With the sky-diving thing. Not us." Exhaling deeply as he realizes he's going to have to come clean, no matter how hard it is. "When you were curled up against me this morning, I don't think you heard me. I said I'd do anything for you and I meant it and it just--" he trails off, not knowing how to explain how big that is for him.

 _Fuck_. The words take Ryan's breath away, emotion spearing through him. He leans in and kisses Sam, unsure how to tell him that he knows, he gets it. "You're safe," he whispers against Sam's lips, although it's not quite what he means. It's true, anyway. "Safe with me. I'll always take care of you, Sam."

Except that's part of what's hard to get used to. Sam draws back a little, sighing softly. "I don't think I told you," he says, "but when I was seventeen and I dropped out of school, my dad gave me four hundred bucks, put me on a plane to the other fucking side of Australia and told me to work my way home."

"Jesus." Ryan stares, horrified. One of the people Sam should have always been able to rely on for life had taught him - at a young age - that he couldn't depend on him at all. That he couldn't depend on anyone. Ryan lifts his hand to caress Sam's cheek but then drops his hand instead, balling it into a fist. "And you've had no one but yourself ever since."

"Yeah. I mean, it was a good lesson, and I don't know if I would've got where I am now without it," Sam says, shrugging a little. "But it also makes it really hard to let go of that, that self-sufficiency. Like when you said my shit was ours. It's hard to think that way."

With a sigh Ryan steps back, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the kitchen counter. He thinks furiously for a moment, then shrugs. "If the only way you can adjust is for me to prove it to you, then I can deal with that. I will prove it to you." He bites his bottom lip. "It's okay to need me, Sam. I'm not going to disappear."

Sam doesn't need Ryan to prove it. He just needs to get used to it. "Even if I go quiet sometimes?" he asks with a small smile.

"I'll only leave if you want me to," Ryan amends, watching that curving of lips. "I can handle quiet. I can't handle... regret," he says, and shakes his head. "I mean, I just need to know that's not why you're quiet. Then I can handle it."

"It's not. I promise," Sam says, stepping closer again, needing to touch Ryan, hand going to his hip. "Not even close."

"Okay." Ryan nods, slipping his arms around Sam's waist. "I could gag you. We could see how long that lasts." His eyes sparkle wickedly.

Sam laughs, and almost says it, the words right there on his tongue. But they've already said so much and the timing seems awkward and he wants Ryan to know he _means_ it when he does say it. That's it not just gratitude or something stupid like that. "Uh uh," he says instead, shaking his head. "The gags are for you. I'll let you tie me up, but you're not gagging me."

"I am really fuckin' excited about tying you up, I admit," Ryan tells him. "Have I mentioned that yet?" Even now his cock stirs just at the thought. A thought is all it takes with Sam.

"You don't think we've had enough firsts for today?" Sam teases, grinning.

"Probably. Not to mention dinner is almost ready," Ryan says with a chuckle. "But I wanted you to know I'm thinking about it. And the rest of the list, too." He figures it doesn't hurt to throw that in there.

Sam grins. "We got one down, or at least part of it," he points out, taking a moment to pop the baguette into the oven.

"Really? You were only partway in there?" Ryan murmurs, tracing a finger over Sam's knuckles.

"I was in to the elbow, but I promised we'd try and get to the bicep and then both hands," Sam says, eyes sparkling.

"Jesus," Ryan breathes with a shiver. "I can't imagine anything feeling more intense than this morning did." He doesn't even remember all of it.

"I was surprised you took so much," Sam admits, pressing close and kissing Ryan.

Ryan moans softly into the kiss. "But you think I can take more?" he whispers. He didn't know people even really did that.

"Yeah." Sam nods, envisioning it, his jeans suddenly that much tighter. "I wouldn't want to try in our bed though. Maybe once we get the playroom done and we have that sling set up."

Oh god. Now Ryan is picturing it, too. "I'll work on figuring out everything for the playroom while we're away in Australia. So when we get back, I'll just arrange for delivery and get everything set up."

"Are we going to have someone in to soundproof the room?" Sam asks.

"Why, you think we need it?" Ryan can't keep a straight face and just laughs. It's either that or gag him _every time_. "Yeah, will do. God bless Citadel."

"No kidding," Sam agrees, peeking over Ryan's shoulder at the soup or stew or whatever it is. "How much longer does that have to go?" It smells delicious, his stomach starting to rumble.

Ryan peers over and gives the bubbling cioppino a quick stir. "It's ready now." He lifts the bottle of Rioja that's been breathing and pours them each a glass, giving Sam a smile as he carries them to the table.

Sam gets the bread from the oven and slides it into the basket already set out, lined with a tea towel, folding the corners over to keep it warm. "Where did you learn to cook?" he asks, well aware his own skills aren't the greatest.

"I taught myself, mostly. I was always fascinated by the process of throwing ingredients together and having it turn into something wonderful," Ryan answers, ladling stew into bowls for them. _A gay man who can cook_. He hates being part of a stereotype. "Is the way to your heart through your stomach?" He sits down at the table and hands Sam a spoon.

Sam grins. "Pretty much." He tries a spoonful and his eyes widen. "Oh my god. This is _really_ good."

Ryan smiles back, delighted by Sam's reaction. God he's gorgeous when he lights up like that. "I guess this seals the deal, then."

"Yeah. You're checking off those boxes left and right," Sam agrees, picking up his wineglass. "Cheers."  



End file.
